When The Smoke Clears

This one's for you, Mike!

Last night was my first Texas Exes Happy Hour. I was a little excited and a little nervous, so I extended an invite to my extended family up here in the DC Metropolitan area. Most of my pals couldn't make it b/c of work or other reasons, but two could - my new friends Anna and James. The three of us walk into the bar together, expecting to hear whooping and the banging of shotguns going off as the Texas Exes are gettin' rowdy and havin' a grand ol' time. Nope. Nothin' but a bunch of young professionals in suits in a chrome and polyester bar with a bunch of TV's that is in no way "Texas". So after about a minute, we leave. As luck would have it, the bar that my little brother works at was only about a 10 minute walk from where we were, so we went there instead. We ate, we drank, we were merry. When we were done eating, we decided that since we didn't want to go home yet, we'd go back to Old Town and go to this karaoke bar where the locals are very entertaining.... You know the kind - "Tonight I'm going to get my big break into the music industry!" Colin (little brother) tossed me the keys to his truck and told us he'd catch a cab when he got off work, so we hit the road.

We reach the karaoke bar early, so we snag a prime table - I'm talking $1000 front-row seats at a Garth Brooks concert prime. We can see the singers, we can see the words on the screens, and we're right next to the dance floor - oh yes, people, there's a dance floor. The first subject of my diatribe here is Michael Jackson. This little short white man with a long pointy nose and spiky hair got up onto the stage about 2 songs into the entertainment. He was off key, yes, but he sang, he danced, he jerked, he moon-walked, he screeched, he hopped on his toes, and finally, he groped himself. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he groped himself in true Michael Jackson form. And what did this get him the rest of the evening? This got him the competition of two ladies, vying for this attention. All Anna, James, and I could do was stare at each other, laugh, and say

WHITE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY!!!!

But wait.... There's more. As we were getting ready to leave later in the evening, I got up to go to the rest room. I left Anna and James sitting at the table. As I was washing my hands, I heard the next "artist" begin. Someone was trying to immitate DJ Kool with "Let Me Clear My Throat", and he wasn't doing too bad a job with it. Sounded like the crowd was getting into it. The bar was half-way packed by now, I guess. It was about 11:30. I figured it was this tall black guy who had done DMX pretty well earlier in the evening. Props. So I walk out of the bathroom and look up to the table and Anna and James aren't sitting there - they're out on the dance floor. I look up to see who's rapping. It's not DMX. Nope. It's pasty white guy with one of those half-boot things you wear when you hurt your foot who's been singing country music all night long who looks like he works the grave-yard at the 7-11 down the street. And he doesn't miss a beat in that song. Not one single word. Pasty white boy tears it up! All I can say is,

WHITE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY!!!!